


Negotiations

by Calico



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene, Multiple Partners, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-14
Updated: 2010-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-07 23:55:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calico/pseuds/Calico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ianto had to admit, he'd been almost relieved when John turned on them. John was a bit too attractive, and the way he looked at Jack set Ianto's nerves on edge. Quite clearly undressing him with his memory, as well as his eyes."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Negotiations

Ianto kept his gun trained on Captain John's forehead as Jack shut the door to the sub-level holding cell and turned the big, secure lock with a satisfying click. The cell wasn't large, and had an oversized hamster cage design to it; iron bars ran floor to ceiling, enclosing a square space that was empty but for a bunk along the back wall.

It gave Ianto a certain thrill to see John trapped in there.

"All this fuss about nothing," John said, folding his arms and giving Jack an extremely put-upon glare. He'd lashed out while handing over the canisters of radioactive whatever-it-was, punching Jack in the stomach and then trying to use him as a meat shield against their guns. Ianto had deeply enjoyed wrenching his hands behind his back and marching him down three floors to continue their line of questioning in a _low-risk_ environment.

Ianto had to admit, he'd been almost relieved when John turned on them. John was a bit too attractive, and the way he looked at Jack set Ianto's nerves on edge. Quite clearly undressing him with his memory, as well as his eyes.

John had glared as Jack slammed the door to this level behind them, locking it and pocketing the key. Now, shut up in the cell, he looked scornful. "You can get off your high horse," he told Jack, with a shade of petulance. "You knew exactly what I meant by _living like a priest_."

Jack folded his arms in return. "I _said_, tell us the rest. This diamond. The canisters, the woman. Give us the details or we'll shoot you."

John gave him a dismissive look, fondling one of the bars. "You're not going to shoot me," he said. "Too pretty, not to mention too many memories. You're just opening negotiations."

"Negotiations," Jack said flatly.

Ianto's grip on the gun tightened.

"Absolutely," John said, smirking, his gaze raking over Ianto and then sidling back to Jack. "Simple business transaction. I've got a pot of gold, you want a share."

John had basically leered at him, and Ianto found that his pulse had sped up. He put a hand on his hip, trying to look calm. Not at all distracted, not thinking any salacious thoughts about putting his hands under John's red jacket. He wanted him gone, remember?

"You tried to murder my team," Jack was saying, warningly.

"I most certainly did not." John sounded affronted. "If I'd tried to murder them, they'd be dead! I just tried to distract them."

"With bullets," Jack said. Then softer, more dangerously, "You tried to murder me."

"You insulted me _and_ tried to get in the way of my pot of gold," John said. He wet his lips thoughtfully, and Ianto looked away. "Don't pretend you wouldn't have done the same."

"Maybe once," Jack said sharply, "but not now."

There was a pause.

"Details," Jack prompted, after a moment.

John shook his head. "I'm not telling you anything unless you give me what I want."

"Then you're not going anywhere."

"Then I won't go anywhere," John countered, and gave an expansive shrug. "This is all right - glorified birdcage, not the nicest digs in the universe, but hardly the worst I've seen. Epsonian Three, Jack - do you remember that place? With the leather, and the spikes? All that flagellation - don't think I slept all month. Good for the circulation, though. And you always did suit a nice collar."

"What do you want, anyway?" Jack asked loudly. "Since you think we won't shoot you - something I'm getting less sure of by the minute, by the way."

"Sex," John said, hooking his thumbs into his belt and giving Jack a mean little pout, and Ianto's mouth went dry, glancing at Jack in time to see him blink.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I've been thinking about it. I want you to let me fuck Ianto," John told Jack, and then, as Jack opened his mouth, added, "Oh, not without you, obviously. I want you, you know I do, always have - but I want to fuck _him_."

"That's not-- Ianto's his own person," Jack retorted, but Ianto didn't miss the darkening of his eyes, the new rasp to his voice that suggested that Jack, too, might very much like to watch John fucking Ianto.

So. That... suddenly made three of them.

"Yes, yes, but he'd follow you anywhere," John was saying, and gave Ianto a disparaging glance. "Wouldn't you, eye-candy? If Jack wanted you to lie down with me..."

He was infuriating and arrogant and a part of Jack's past that Ianto wanted gone-- but he was also undeniably attractive, and made Ianto's palms itch, and maybe it would be a chance to remind Jack of what he'd missed. Not to mention that saying no was the sensible option, and Ianto was thoroughly sick of sensible. You had to give life a _chance_ to be more fun when Jack was around.

And if he did this, he told himself, quickly licking his lips, then every thought Jack had about John would have a thought about Ianto hot on its heels. That had a certain appeal.

John was looking at Jack again. "You always used to be up for a threesome - not gone soft, have you? Well, no, I can see you haven't," he added, looking proprietarily at Jack's crotch, and Ianto cleared his throat and re-holstered his gun.

"Okay," he said.

"What?" Jack demanded.

"_Really_?" John said, a velvety darkness to his voice. "Well, well, well, you may prove yourself yet."

"I'm not looking to prove myself," Ianto said quickly. "I just fancy a shag, and you're quite easy on the eye yourself. And the sooner we get your business cleared up, the sooner you'll be on your way, so it's win-win for me really."

"Ianto," Jack said, and Ianto reached up to his collar and loosened his tie. His cock was rapidly hardening. Jack's eyes darkened further, and he asked hurriedly, "Uh, are you sure you're not doing this for all the wrong reasons? I mean," he added, with a flash of his teeth, "if you just fancy a shag--"

"We've got some baggage to work through before I'll let you fuck me again," Ianto said simply, and Jack looked stricken, and John crowed softly, both hands on the bars now, leaning towards them.

"So it's me and you, huh, eye-candy," John grinned, and sucked in his cheeks thoughtfully, his eyes gleaming. "Well, I must say I like the idea of that _very_ much."

"I hope you do, or I'll be sorely disappointed," Ianto said, and pocketed his cuff links.

"Maybe just sore," John said menacingly, and Jack stepped between them, putting up his hands and saying,

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," and then, clearing his throat: "Boys. Are you serious?"

"Deadly," John said.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Jack said quickly. "Ianto, we can't do this - I'm not risking taking him out of his cell."

"I was thinking I'd go in," Ianto said. "We can trust you to keep guard, can't we?"

"A conjugal visit, how exciting," John said gleefully, and Ianto _saw_ the moment that Jack stopped resisting, started imagining it, his eyes filling with a faraway expression.

"I'll disable the CCTV," Ianto said, pushing the advantage. "I'm not quite enough of an exhibitionist as wanting this on film." He walked over to the control box and pushed a couple of buttons, disrupting the signal to the monitors upstairs and sharpening the resolution for temporary storage.

When he returned, John and Jack were standing very close on opposite sides of the bars, and Ianto realised John's hand was reaching through, stroking the visible bulge in the front of Jack's trousers.

John had taken his shoes off, and the incongruous sight of bare skin made Ianto's mouth go dry. God, he was getting desperate. He was being turned on by a flash of ankle.

He hadn't had so much of a flicker of interest in sex, the whole time Jack had been away - and then since he'd come back he could think of nothing but. It wasn't helpful, but he had a complete hard-on for the way Jack ordered him around. Above and beyond the inevitable distraction of him being all dashing and dynamic and, well. Complicated.

"How about that," John was murmuring. "Baggage. Apparently you're not as irresistible as you thought."

Jack was shaking his head. "That's what you get with partners - you get history, and subtlety. Sometimes you don't get what you want straight away. I wouldn't expect you to understand--"

"Sounds very dull," John purred. "I'm more an instant gratification man myself. Whoops, he's back! Look busy." He snatched his hand back through the bars.

Ianto met Jack's startled look and quirked a smile. "You actually got some points there, sir, believe it or not," he said, and gave Jack a kiss on the cheek. He rolled up his tie and pocketed it, then took off his jacket and unbuttoned his waistcoat. Lowering his voice, watching for the effect on Jack's face, he added, "And your reward is to watch your old flame fucking me senseless." Then he arched an eyebrow at John and said dryly, "At least, I hope it will be."

John licked his teeth. "Try me."

Wordlessly, Jack opened the door. Ianto handed over his gun and jacket and walked slowly into the cell, undoing his shirt buttons one by one. His pulse raced. His chest was prickling with the brush of cool air. He was, in a very real sense, stepping into a cage with a wild animal.

The moment the door clanged shut behind him, John grabbed him by the open edges of his waistcoat and pushed him back against the bars. "Let's see what you taste like, then," John whispered, and kissed him, his tongue pushing into Ianto's mouth, hot and wet and very, very demanding.

Ianto sucked lewdly, and John shoved his hips forwards, rubbing their cocks together though several layers of stiff fabric. Not to be outdone, Ianto crooked one leg around the back of John's knee and tugged him in harder, working his hands under the thick, scratchy material of John's jacket to rub his palms over the heat of his skin through his shirt.

"Well, blow me," Jack said, sounding dazed, and Ianto and John said simultaneously,

"_Later_."

Jack laughed, and Ianto took advantage of John's momentary distraction to push the damn red jacket off his shoulders. As John shrugged the jacket onto the floor with a thump, Ianto slithered out of his waistcoat and turned his attention to the buttons of John's collar, fumbling them open and then leaning in and giving his pale skin a slow, sucking bite.

"Hey," John growled, grabbing Ianto by the scruff of the neck and punching him in the stomach-- pulling the punch, Ianto realised, adrenaline leaping through him, and he grabbed John's fist and _twisted_, shoving with both hands. John staggered back and then rounded on him, grinning wicked and wild.

"Got some spirit, hasn't he?" he called softly, and lunged at Ianto again, catching him by the shoulders and then the wrists and darting down to rake his teeth over Ianto's neck.

Ianto hissed and struggled, jerking his head back, the hot dampness of John's breath maddening on his throat. "That," he muttered, wrenching one arm free and throwing it around John's waist, pushing his hand under the waistband of John's trousers, "_tickles_."

"So does that," John said sharply, straightening and shifting his hips, giving Ianto's hand more room to maneuver and beginning to grin again; Ianto groped his arse shamelessly, buzzing with the inevitable excitement of touching bare skin, his other hand fumbling with the rest of the buttons on John's shirt.

"Though y'know," John drawled, smoothing his palms up Ianto's torso, fanning his fingers through his chest hair and brushing over his nipples, "I quite _like_ tickling..."

John's hands on his chest were making him tingle hot and crazy all over, and it was getting difficult to think straight. Baring his teeth, Ianto slid his middle finger down the cleft of John's arse, just for a moment, and then moved on - just testing the water. John mumbled something and kissed him again, pressing the bare margins of their chests together, one big hand closing warmly over Ianto's jaw.

Ianto kissed him back distractedly, sliding one hand around to work on the excessive number of buttons on the front of John's trousers, trying to concentrate on keeping his fingers from shaking. The buttons loosened eventually, and Ianto reached into the front of John's shorts and pulled his cock out, relishing the sudden surge of John's body pushing forwards against him, the little appreciative noises John started making in his throat.

John sucked Ianto's tongue, then drew Ianto's lower lip between his teeth and sucked that as well, his cock filling Ianto's hand, hard and silken and thick enough to make Ianto's mouth water. Ianto groaned, pushing his other hand further down the back of John's trousers, dipping his fingers deep down between John's legs; he felt John shift his weight and spread his feet a little, giving Ianto's fingertips room to brush against the back of his balls. John trembled against him, his kisses going unsteady, nudging his cock in Ianto's fist.

Ianto started stroking him, his mind whirling. John was probably distracted enough, he thought, keeping stroking with one hand and lifting the other to John's face.

"Mm-mm," John protested, against Ianto's mouth, and Ianto pushed his fingers against John's lips and said,

"Shush," slipping his fingers into John's mouth when he took an indignant breath to reply.

"Hm," John said, muffled, apparently mollified, and leaned back enough to give Ianto a thoroughly scandalous smile as he sucked his fingers in down to the knuckle, swirling his tongue, keeping his eyes level with Ianto's the whole time.

Ianto responded by rubbing his thumb over the head of John's cock, watching with satisfaction as John's eyelashes shuttered. Encouraged, Ianto reclaimed his fingers from John's mouth and pushed his hand back down the back of John's trousers, repeating that rub of his thumb just as he pressed his wet fingers deliberately against John's arsehole.

"Fuck," John bit off, jerking forwards in Ianto's grip, and kissed him again, sliding his tongue deep into Ianto's mouth, shuffling his feet apart and pushing back against Ianto's fingers.

And maybe he was actually going to do this, Ianto thought dazedly, pumping John's cock with one hand and circling his fingertips, just the barest suggestion, holding his breath and then exhaling unevenly when John pressed back against him. He worked his middle finger inside.

"_Oh_ yeah," John growled, kissing him harder, his fingers raking down Ianto's chest, and Ianto couldn't think for a moment, too preoccupied with the tight heat of John's body, the feeling of John rocking between his fist and his finger--

He turned his head blindly, breaking the kiss and panting, and John stopped moving; when Ianto looked back, John had a thoughtful, knowing expression on his face, although his teeth were gritted.

"Forgot myself for a moment there," John said roughly. "Where was I? Oh yeah-- If you're going to do _that_," he said, tilting back against Ianto's fingers, then wrapping a companionable arm around Ianto's shoulders, "you'd better be doing it from down there." And Ianto was shoved to his knees.

Ianto reeled back from him, hands shooting out to keep his balance; before he could catch his breath John had him crowded against the bars, kneeling, John's cock level with his face.

"Reconsidering?" John asked, hiking up an eyebrow.

In answer, Ianto hooked his fingers into John's trouser pockets and pulled the damn things _down_.

"Oh," John said, as if put out, "and there I was thinking you'd look good if I kept all my clothes on, just my cock in your mouth and your shirt undone..."

"If you'd rather stand there jabbering," Ianto said, and John's eyes flashed, and he kicked off his trousers and stepped forward.

"Come on then, suck it," he said, curving his warm fingers under Ianto's chin, and then, as Ianto exhaled raggedly and rose up on his knees to let John guide the fat head of his cock between his lips, John called to Jack, "Oh, yeah. Look at that mouth. What a _find_."

The sensation of it, the salty sweet taste of his skin and the smell, warm and musky, not like Jack, but not entirely unlike him either-- Ianto found he was sucking more eagerly than he'd expected, his own cock pushing hard against his boxers, his mouth wet and keen as he stroked over unfamiliar ridges and curves with his tongue. He was trying to find the places that made Jack moan; that might make John moan. Yeah. _Yeah_.

God, he thought faintly, he was losing it; his chest full of heat and his mind like a melting marshmallow. He found he wanted to show off, wanted to make Jack feel every lick. He craned forwards to take more of John's dick into his mouth, tilting his head one way and then the other, alternatively licking and sucking and trying not to groan at the feel of it.

_Sex_. He'd missed sex _so much_, he hadn't realised-- His hands crept back to the bars, fists clenching round the cool iron, a point of stability as tingling heat rolled out across him in waves.

"He's - oh, that's good," John said huskily, and then, as Ianto sucked at the crown of his cock, hollowing his cheeks, "but he's-- Jack," sounding delighted, "he's _performing_ for us, showing us what a good little cocksucker-- OW," he yelped preemptively, as Ianto glared up at him and briefly showed his teeth.

Seeing the outrage on John's face helped to bring him back to himself. Amused, Ianto closed his eyes again and sucked hard, softening his mouth, belatedly reminded that Jack was watching, maybe even jerking off. He ducked his head and renewed his efforts, getting it wet, sucking as much of John's cock in as he could and then pulling off again, elaborately slow. His mouth was slick and salty as he licked his fingers and then went down on John's cock again, reaching round to slide his palm up the back of John's warm, hairy thigh.

_If you're going to do that_, John had said, _you'd better be doing it from down there._ That was sufficient permission, Ianto decided, trailing two fingers back up to John's arse.

John's fists settled in his hair, almost warning, but Ianto could feel John's cock twitching and flexing against his tongue as he positioned his fingertips together and started to nudge. He hoped that Jack had a good line of sight as he worked them inside.

"Oh," John groaned, his hips bucking forwards, and Ianto almost choked but held his breath and let the head of John's cock slide hard and thick against the back of his throat; it was worth it to be pushing inside him again, sliding gradually into the tightness of him, fucking him with two fingers even as John started fucking his mouth.

"Oh my God," Jack muttered loudly, as John gripped Ianto's head with both hands and thrust, working his cock deeper into Ianto's mouth, forcing down into his throat. His stomach pressed hot and damp against Ianto's forehead, the world shimmering at the edges, and Ianto's cock reared hard.

"Neat trick," Ianto heard John say, as if through gritted teeth, and Ianto swallowed desperately around John's cock, struggling with it, sweat prickling all over his body. In lieu of answering, he pushed a third finger into John's arse, sliding them together and _twisting_ and swallowing hard.

The bars reverberated above his head as John smacked one with his open hand, burying himself in Ianto in short hard slides, his whole body shuddering. Ianto rode it out, shoving his fingers up harder, not even tasting anything, just _feeling_ the tremors of John's body-- and then John gave a sort of triumphant whoop and staggered back from him, his cock pulling bruisingly solid and hot out of Ianto's mouth, leaving Ianto blinking hard and gulping in air.

The world revolved slowly around Ianto's head as he started to focus again. He looked straight at a patch of floor, swallowing hard, then licked his lips and raised his eyebrows, and murmured, to himself, but entirely for Jack's benefit, "Whew."

"Of course," John said, loud and conversational, taking his gleaming cock in his hand and stroking it leisurely, still hard, and Ianto managed a strangled laugh because John _hadn't_ come? it had _felt_ like he'd-- "I've got a few tricks up my sleeve too, eye-candy."

Bugger, Ianto thought. Round one, John wins.

He looked up at him, wishing he had the strength in his legs to stop kneeling at John's _feet_. John _looked_ like he'd won; naked but for his flouncy white shirt, which hung open and framed the jut of his cock, his gleaming torso. He looked like he didn't know it was possible to lose.

John reached down and got Ianto by the scruff of his neck, hauling him to his feet and then kissing him, soft as velvet, his lips and tongue feeling cool now against Ianto's mouth, his cock nudging warm and blunt against Ianto's bare stomach. Despite everything, Ianto felt himself start to melt in John's arms; the man could definitely kiss.

Ianto curled his fingers tightly around the cold bars behind him, grounding himself, willing himself not to wholly succumb. He needed to remember Jack was in the room, was watching, needed to remember that the point of this was to remind Jack of what he'd missed. John was undressing him swiftly now, pushing Ianto's shirt off his shoulders so that it pooled around his hands where they gripped the bars, then moving on to the rest of his clothes.

Ianto inhaled sharply as John brushed his hands slyly over Ianto's cock, deftly undoing Ianto's trousers and then dropping to his knees to work on his shoelaces.

Ianto took the opportunity to look at Jack.

Jack had got himself a _chair_. For some reason, the sight of him pulled a bit of Ianto's floundering brain back to the surface, and he rasped, "Got a good seat there?"

"The best," Jack said, and he was trying to be flippant, Ianto could see that, but the timbre of his voice was the same as the first time Ianto had sucked him off at work, and he was sprawled in the chair like his limbs were too heavy, gaze flicking rapidly up and down Ianto's body.

"Glad to hear it," Ianto said, gazing at him, feeling one of those odd rushes of disbelief that a man like _that_ was part of his life, that that man - sitting there, with his dark blue jacket and blazing black eyes - _that man_ had said he'd come back for him. Had somehow asked him out on a date, a fucking _date_\-- It was incredible.

Jack's hand drifted to his chin, his knuckle playing against his lower lip as if he were deeply distractedly in thought. Ianto watched, drinking in the sight of him, and then suddenly Jack's white teeth closed on the knuckle and that was all the warning Ianto got before John closed his hands around Ianto's neglected hips and swiped his tongue over the head of Ianto's cock.

Ianto almost buckled, almost bent in two, his attention slamming away from Jack and back to John, on his knees, mouthing him slow and mischievous. John's mouth was _wet_, incredibly wet and soft, and Ianto stared down in stupid dazed surprise even as his hips started pulsing forwards. His wrists were still caught in his shirt cuffs; he shook the shirt frantically to the floor, then settled his hands on John's head and exhaled hard.

He'd been expecting John to fuck him, maybe to play with him, maybe push him around a bit; he'd never expected to see him on his knees.

John winked up at him, swiped his tongue in an indecent circle, then closed his eyes briefly and _pulled_ on Ianto's hips.

"Fuck," Ianto bit off, and John swallowed his cock just like that, took him balls-deep and began nuzzling, his nose nudging Ianto's stomach.

It felt _heavenly_. John's mouth-- John's _mouth_\-- it was all hot, slippery, elastic tightness, moving rhythmically around Ianto's cock as John swallowed and swallowed. John was peering up at him again, not a flicker of discomfort in his face, an intense smugness in his half-lidded eyes.

"_Fuck_," Ianto repeated, starting to thrust helplessly, and John smirked around his cock and went with it, holding Ianto's hips, doing the most amazing things with the base of his tongue, sucking and playing. He was almost _riding_ Ianto's cock with his mouth, and abruptly it was irritating - that Ianto's eyes were still smarting and yet here John was, deep-throating him like it was nothing at all.

A few tricks up his sleeve, indeed.

_Fine_, Ianto thought narrowly, shifting his feet apart, _bring it on_.

Threading his fingers through John's, he drew John's hands to the bars and coaxed them to grip, then stroked his fingertips over John's face, combing back his hair, and gave an experimental thrust.

The look in John's eyes changed to pure challenge.

Ianto stared steadily down at him, concentrating on pushing his cock deeper and slower into John's mouth. The image of John sucking him, no hands, sent thrills up his spine, and he wanted to make Jack feel it. He wanted to make Jack weak at the knees, he thought, and if he could do that by making John wince, all the better.

He was unable to hold back a groan as John took it and _smiled_.

"You--" Ianto said, almost saying _you bastard_ except it was wildly inappropriate, and so he just said, "you," again, hearing himself husky and raw.

A part of him was still holding back, being polite, watching for discomfort, and that irritated him as well. He pushed faster; shorter strokes that John met with a leisurely suction that made Ianto's head spin, and John tipped his head back and held up his hands, spreading his fingers in an unmistakable sign for _do what you like_ before gripping the bars by Ianto's hips again-- and he was winning round two as well, Ianto realised suddenly, John was leading him around by his dick and Jack was watching Ianto melt, and it came to Ianto raw and fierce that _he_ wanted to win, wanted to push him off balance, shake him or screw him blind or both.

_Time to stop holding back_, he thought, and gave it to him hard, cupping the sides of John's head firmly and fucking his mouth, and John made a low rumbling noise and leaned forwards eagerly, taking everything Ianto had to give.

"Oh," Ianto heard himself mutter, gritting his teeth and almost losing himself in the perfect shifting heat around his cock, growling under his breath and going for it, good, so good, so fucking good-- and then it was _too_ good, good enough that he was going to come extremely soon, and he realised all at once that _that_ would be losing, winning the battle but losing the war.

And if John could do... this... and not come... then Ianto damn well could too. He exhaled hard, fighting off the waves of pleasure and using the last frayed remnants of his willpower to still his hips, and pushed John weakly away.

John gave him a look of grudging admiration as he drew back from Ianto's cock and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he flashed his eyebrows. "That was a near thing," he drawled, licking his lips. "Could feel you getting bigger, feel you _twitching_, all ready to go over."

"Could feel him fucking you senseless, you mean," Jack corrected, and John swung his head around to look at him, Ianto blinking at Jack in gratitude. He wasn't quite able yet to speak, let alone think up a retort.

"Whose side are you on?" John complained.

Jack was still slumped in his seat, knees wide, one hand gripping the top of his thigh, and he was breathing through his mouth, shoulders rising and falling, visible patches worn in his composure - but he grinned and jerked a thumb at Ianto and told John, "His," and his voice had all the resonance and simple certainty of a perfectly unruffled Jack Harkness giving his word.

Ianto thought he'd never liked someone this much in his life. He was clearly a lost cause. He distracted himself from grinning foolishly by toeing off his shoes - John had loosened them before getting waylaid by Ianto's dick, so it wasn't the sartorial crime it might otherwise be - and kicking away his crumpled trousers. It felt good to be naked, finally. He felt slightly whiplashed, raw, getting so close to coming before swerving away. His brain was still pulsing with it. But it was worth it: they were even.

"Oh, come on," John was saying to Jack, getting to his feet. "You're not telling me you weren't cheering me on just then. Talk about a flawless technique! Tell him, eye-candy. Tell him how much like paradise that felt - tell him that wasn't the best head you've had in your _life_."

"It wasn't the best head I've had in my life," Ianto agreed, and John rounded on him with a glare.

"Oh, shut _up_," he exclaimed, throwing out his hands. "I've had Jack every which way, remember? I _know_ he doesn't give better head than me, and there's no way you've bagged some random Welshman who's better than him, so don't even _try_ and pretend you've had better than that."

"I don't know," Ianto said, "maybe Jack's learned a few new tricks since then - I understand," he added, pointedly, "we're talking quite a long time ago."

"A lifetime," Jack agreed.

"Right!" John snapped, "That's it! You, hands and knees, on the bunk, I'm finishing what I started. Enough of this namby-pamby pussyfooting around - I'm going to fuck you until you forget your own name. And if you're not screaming _my_ name by the time I'm done with you, you'll-- well, you'll be screaming _something_," he finished, his voice thick with promise, and the next thing Ianto knew he was on his hands and knees on the narrow bunk, hard as a rock, his ears ringing with the thumping of his blood.

John might be a dick, but he did have a way with words.

"More like it," John muttered, crawling onto the bed behind him, "you didn't expect me to forget what I came for, did you? Forget our bargain?" and Ianto arched up as John settled over him, warm chest against Ianto's back, warm cock butting at the backs of his thighs.

"Open," John said curtly, manhandling Ianto's legs apart, and Ianto shivered, spreading for him, "and down," John added, pushing Ianto's shoulders until his elbows buckled; he pillowed his face on his forearms, arse in the air.

John practically purred, running his hands appraisingly over Ianto's body, and Ianto couldn't help but imagine what he must look like to Jack. His cock hardened even further, brushing wetly against the taut line of his stomach - nothing to rub against - and he rocked and stretched towards John's roaming hands, aching under every inch of skin they didn't touch.

"Now, let's see how long it takes to make you beg," John said, crawling backwards, his weight shifting the mattress. Ianto's body prickled cold all over when he felt John's breath against the small of his back, and then John's mouth was _there_, intimate and deliberate, John's hands holding him open, the slick stripes of his tongue pushing right into Ianto's arse.

"Fuck," Ianto bit off, into the hot planes of his forearms, shivering and squirming, pushing back, imagining Jack watching John's face between his thighs. John was _lapping_, slippery and hot, just enough pressure to make Ianto sweat, and damn him, was there _anything_ he didn't do well?

It was intense. Ianto felt one of John's hands hefting his balls, getting them good and wet, rolling them gently, and he couldn't help but thrust forwards and then back, back, back, because going forwards meant less of John's tongue. He caught his breath as John hummed approval, licking him flat and firm, trailing the pointed tip of his tongue around and around and around.

"Oh, fuck," Ianto repeated, under his breath, realising he was turning his head from side to side, shifting restlessly. He _wanted_ it. He wanted it _hard_. He bit his own wristbone, sucking it, trying to shut himself up. The salt of his skin was _delicious_, made him crazy, made him want to _gnaw_.

"Mmm," John repeated, and Ianto could hear how amused he was, hear him and hate him and love him and not care for any part of him except for his torturously evasive mouth-- and then John drew back and blew gently, and Ianto whimpered, and then gasped as John's mouth descended again, fucking him with his tongue.

"Oh," Ianto heard himself say, and then again, with every push, "fuck, oh fuck," and his mind felt thick and his thoughts were like treacle, gleaming and indistinct - oh fuck, _fuck_ \- but he was not, not now, he was _not_ going to come like this, give John the satisfaction of getting him off using just his mouth. Jack could, and had, and would again if Ianto had anything to do with it, but John? No. John was _not_ just going to saunter away with Round Three.

However good it felt--

No, Ianto told himself, no, no. Concentrating to keep steady, he rose onto his hands and knees again, pulling forwards from John's mouth. John made a surprised noise as the angle changed, and then Ianto said "come on" and John surged up to cover Ianto's body with his own, trapping his cock against Ianto's arse and rocking insistently. Ianto slammed from one semi-ecstatic state to another, from pure liquid pleasure to a sizzling tension of anticipation.

"Impatient, aren't you?" John grinned, and Ianto just nodded. He didn't care that it made John laugh.

"Jack," John called, "You still carry lube in your inside left-hand pocket, right?" and Jack tossed a sachet through the bars to him, which John caught mid-air with one swipe of his hand. "Thought you would. Some things don't change."

"Inside right-hand pocket, actually," Jack said, and Ianto started to smile and then inhaled deeply instead as John's fingers came wet and warm against his arse.

"Inside pocket means body-temperature," John said, in Ianto's ear, "lucky for you," and Ianto hissed as John's thumb twisted into him, brisk and firm. He wasn't teasing any more, and it felt so _good_. "Oh, that's nice," John added, rubbing in and out, the heel of his thumb stretching Ianto thickly, "I've got to tell you, I cannot _wait_ to push my dick into you."

Ianto bared his teeth as John slid his thumb out again, just the very tip pressing him open. "So don't wait."

"Alright, I won't," John retorted, and replaced his thumb with the blunt head of his cock, not pressing yet, just a presence right damn there, slipping and sliding, hot and wet and firm and _wide_. "Ready, eye-candy?"

Ianto shivered; he'd always got off on the feeling of Jack lining up behind him, always. "Y--"

"Hope so," John said brightly, aiming his cock properly against Ianto's hole and pushing, the head huge and shiny-solid in Ianto's mind's eye, a ridiculous proposition. God, should have kept his big mouth shut. He thought momentarily about backtracking, then imagined John's smirk - Round Three - and made himself bear backwards, shoulders clenching, thighs taut.

"Oh," he heard Jack say, softly, almost a sigh.

"Mmm, yeah," John replied, squeezing and tugging Ianto's hips with both hands, and Ianto felt himself _give_ and just knew that Jack would love it, the idea that John was forcing himself into him, so he breathed hard through his teeth and clawed the mattress and _growled_ as John started to slide in.

"Oh, yeah, that's it," John murmured, his chest rasping against Ianto's back, and Ianto went from nought to sixty just like that, all calculation and external thought whitewashing away. Fuck, he'd missed being pushed into, _fuck_. He heard himself moan and sigh, loving the grip of John's hands on his back, the sweaty planes of his thighs and stomach sliding against him, _shivering_ with the crazily building intensity as John's cock forced all the way into him, deep and slow.

He couldn't keep his eyes open, couldn't do anything but rock back and give himself up to it. There was just this, sex, pure and dirty, shot through with the staggering certainty that being fucked in the arse with Jack watching was hotter than anything he could have dreamt up tonight on his own.

He turned his head with difficulty, cracking open his eyes, and saw that Jack was biting on his knuckle again, his other hand fisted around the arm of his chair. Jack saw him look and closed his eyes for a moment, and Ianto had a sudden awful thought that possibly it was Ianto that Jack was jealous of, not John.

Then Jack opened his eyes again and clasped both hands on the arms of his chair, and shook his head at Ianto with a look that could be _nothing_ but incredulous admiration. "Fucking hell," Jack bit off, clearly, "why am I not taping this?"

"You can," John said immediately, pulling out and then pushing back in hard, making Ianto yelp and then groan, "that is, if you can tear yourself away..."

"Damnit!" Jack laughed, breathless now, and Ianto was almost swept away on how dizzily much he loved being fucked, slow and hard, on his hands and knees, Jack there, right there--

"You know," John drawled, both hands going to Ianto's hips, squeezing tight, "maybe it's time we gave him a real show."

Ianto rumbled fervent agreement, and then frowned as John stopped moving, the head of his cock buried inside him but absolutely motionless. John panted gently against the back of his neck, and Ianto could feel his heartbeat _everywhere_, hammering, frustrating building with every shallow pulse.

"Excuse me," Ianto said, turning his head and feeling John's mouth brush his ear, "what - _ah_ \- what are you doing?"

He pushed back, but John's grip held him completely still. "Giving him a show," John said softly, and Ianto wanted to _scream_, he wanted to reach back and tug John the rest of the way in, wanted to flip him over and go fast, smooth, deep.

"Quite a boring show," he managed to say, rocking infinitesimally in John's hands, and John laughed and said,

"No, no, it's pretty entertaining from where I'm kneeling. You can have it when you ask for it, you know. When you say the right words."

Ianto glared at the mattress. "Move," he said painfully, and then, even more difficult, "_please_."

"Hmm," John said thoughtfully, "very well," and then began to sink inside again, wonderful but so infuriatingly, silkily slow.

Ianto inhaled raggedly, feeling himself yield utterly and simultaneously _ache_ for more. "Please," he repeated, almost a gulp, as John's pelvis settled against his arse again, nestling in and stretching him and yeah, okay, it felt amazing, but it wasn't what he'd signed up for. "Move," he said again.

"Like this?" John asked, sliding back just as gently, and Ianto felt the loss of it so pathetically keenly he almost snarled.

"No," he muttered, "like before."

"What was that?" John asked, his voice like velvet, "come on, you know what I want to hear," and the slowness was _unbearable_, Ianto wanted it _hard_, wanted the rush of John slamming into him, the smack of his hips against his arse, "what do you want, hmm?"

"More," Ianto said loudly, and John gave him _less_, pulling mostly out and sawing just the head of his cock in and out of Ianto's body, sending a cascade of different sensations through him, silvery and insubstantial, "oh, come on," Ianto hissed, frustration making his voice crack.

"Yeah, you know I can do it just right," John drawled, and leant down and gave Ianto a slow lick between his shoulderblades, completing one incendiary circuit even as he reduced the movement of his cock to the barest fraction again, "so why don't you say what I want to hear, and I'll do _this_," and he slid right in, making Ianto moan in sudden, helpless gratitude, "a few more times."

"Fuck," Ianto whispered, and John pushed deeper and started up that fractional nudging again, this time rocking his hips hard against Ianto's arse, and it probably felt fantastic to him, buried deep and feeling Ianto push back against him, practically writhing, "fuck, oh, God--"

"It's John," John corrected, and licked the back of Ianto's neck, "but good try," and gave him another deep satisfying slide, and Ianto arched into it with a groan of frustrated pleasure and then realised all at once that by fighting he was losing again.

"John," he said instead, clearly, "John--"

The result was electric, immediate; John's whole body stiffened and then melded against him, and his hips snapped forwards, generous slides of his cock exactly where Ianto wanted him. Pleasure exploded through Ianto's body, hot and getting hotter, starting to tingle all over.

"John," Ianto said again, and slanted his head sideways to look at Jack, who was staring at him with a face like thunder, "oh, yeah, _John_," Ianto groaned, and channeled every mental resource he'd got left into looking Jack straight in the eye and giving him a slow, deliberate wink. "_Yeah_."

"_Yeah_," John echoed, and he was losing it, he'd clearly hung a lot on hearing Ianto say his name, and he was shoving into him now, fast and smooth and deliberate, and Ianto gritted his teeth over the intensifying waves of full-body heat and kept Jack's gaze even as his eyes started to flutter closed.

John grabbed Ianto's shoulder for purchase and reached around, his fist closing blessedly firm around Ianto's cock, and Ianto almost lost it, riding out the waves with the barest sense that he was _waiting_ for something, waiting, staring at Jack, furiously unblinking, holding off--

"Say it again," John growled, against the side of Ianto's neck, and Ianto gasped,

"John, yes," and then, louder, "yes, sir," and John went _wild_ at that, and Jack's eyes flashed, and he gave Ianto the curt nod that he hadn't quite known he was waiting for.

He came in a tumble of heat and sweat and groaning, his arms giving way, John pushing him flat and slamming into him now, less finesse, more that frantic furious groping for the finish line. Ianto didn't even have the strength to tilt his hips back into it, and John went deep and unsteady, manhandling him roughly, biting at Ianto's shoulders and muttering something that wasn't _anybody's_ name.

Ianto lay with his eyes closed, panting and dizzy and over-warm, only realising that John had come when he felt John's chest sinking against his back again, slick and shifting deeply with every breath. He felt shattered, taken totally to pieces; John's cock inside him, the smell of John's skin and the rumble of John's voice in his ear, and all he could think was _Jack_, Jack, Jack, like a metronome, like he was a compass needle and north was _right there_.

"Oh, now that," John said hazily, slumped on top of him, "was good. You gotta admit - oh, wait, you already did."

Ianto made a resentful noise without any real resentment, his eyes still closed. The world pounded around him, a dull thudding behind his eyelids. He had a feeling they both thought they'd won Round Three. Now to see who'd get the prize. He'd feel anxious except he didn't have the resources right now.

John eased out of him with a low grunt, flopping sideways onto the mattress and stretching out, then pulling Ianto backwards onto his side, spooning him. Ianto, who felt he currently had more in common with a rag doll than anything else, leaned lazily back against him and didn't protest when John slung an arm over his chest.

Then he heard the cage-- the cell, the cell door - open, and opened his eyes.

Jack walked in stiffly and stopped a couple of feet away, fully dressed with his jaw set.

To the casual observer, Jack could have just been signing off at the end of a long day. The glaze in his eyes could be testament to umpteen hours at a computer terminal, and his bitten lips and restless hands could be attributed to caffeine or bureaucratic stress. To John, he probably looked like a man pushed beyond arousal, a man keeping himself on an extremely short leash.

To Ianto, he looked like the prize.

"Warmed him up for you," John suggested, stroking a proprietary hand down Ianto's chest.

"I'll say," Jack said. His voice sounded raw.

"Give me a few minutes to recover," John said slyly, "and we can have some _real_ fun with him."

Ianto wet his lips, and found he had nothing to say. He'd been fucked to the very edge of his capacity for thought, and it wasn't returning in a hurry. He looked up at Jack through half-lidded eyes and waited for what would happen next.

Jack stared at them for a few seconds, drinking them in, and Ianto's first clear thought was that he couldn't actually imagine what a debauched picture they must make. He needed a shower. Possibly he needed to be industrially cleaned.

"Right," Jack said eventually. "This diamond."

Ianto gaped, and then was intensely glad that only Jack could see his face.

"Fuck you," John said, propping himself on his elbow and pulling Ianto more firmly against him. "We've not finished here--"

"We've finished here."

"I thought we came to an agreement," John said, and Ianto wasn't following this at all; it felt like they were picking up a conversation half-way through.

"We did."

"_You've_ not come," John said, like he was pointing out a factor that would steam-roll any argument, and then added darkly, "though I don't know how you didn't, Jesus. Turned to stone in your old age?"

Jack shook his head, unsmiling. "I wasn't part of the deal."

"Threesome, remember," John said, and Jack shook his head again.

"You said you'd give the information in return for fucking Ianto. Ianto, of his own accord, has _selflessly_," and here Jack almost grinned, Ianto could see it in his unsmiling eyes, "fulfilled our side of the bargain, and now it's your turn. And then you will leave."

"Aw, come on now," John protested. He sat up, almost overbalancing Ianto off the bed, and Ianto shifted rapidly out the way, blood shooting to his head. "You weren't serious, all that territory stuff. You don't really want me gone. We go back!"

"I want you gone," Jack said clearly.

John looked scornful. "After what we just did?"

Jack shook his head. "You and Ianto just did something, and me and Ianto just did something, but you and me?" He bent and picked up John's jacket, then crossed the room and pressed it into his hands. "No."

Ianto rubbed his lower lip with his knuckle as something slid into place. He had known all along that John was more interested in him for Jack's reaction than anything else; he hadn't quite fathomed that fucking him had been an entire conversation.

John accepted the jacket, but grabbed Jack's fingers as well. "I'll leave, but I know you want to come with me," he said, his voice low and fervent. "Like before - star-surfing and screwing and seeking out the biggest highs the universe has to offer."

"I've already found them."

"Here," John scoffed, and Jack glared at him, jerking his hands free and looking truly angry for the first time.

"Yeah," he spat, "here."

"Whatever," John said, and that was it: everything had been said now.

Jack folded his arms. "You can clean up first-- there's facilities down that corridor, but watch out for the alien monsters if you're thinking you might try and make a run for it. They only get fed once a week, and I think they're about due."

John gave him a scathing look, then threw his jacket over his bare shoulders and stalked out of the cell.

"You're not letting him loose," Ianto said, and then cleared his throat, his voice sounding like a shell of its former self. He tried to remember what lay down that corridor; just a water fountain and a few empty cells, he thought. And the door to the surface was locked. Still. "He's dangerous."

"He has a tendency towards post-coital stupidity," Jack said, and smirked, "and anyway, it's not like he's armed."

"But before, you said," Ianto said, trying to think back to before, which seemed a long, long time ago, "you said you'd not risk taking him out of the cell."

Jack sat next to him. "Before," he said, "I thought you might be biting off more than you could chew."

Ianto looked at him. "Oh," he said. He felt conspicuously sticky. "And now?"

"And now I think I might be biting off more than I can chew," Jack said lightly, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Think you've got the energy to hunt out a diamond tonight?"

"Uh, if that's innuendo, then _no_," Ianto said, and Jack laughed.

"It's not, but it should be." He tilted his head. "And, ah," he said, eminently casual, "if it were, would that be no because you're been worn out, or no because of the, uh, that baggage you mentioned?"

Ianto thought of every single thing Jack had said to John about him, every thing he'd said to John full stop. "Because I'm worn out," he said.

 

***

 

**Epilogue**

 

Ianto felt a fierce thrill when John disappeared into the rift; mostly satisfaction, shot through with a dizzy relief.

Dawn had burned into morning and then exploded back into the previous night, and Ianto felt like he'd been rushing ever since they left the cell. He'd had to clean up, make the best of the disgraceful state of his clothes, reset the alarms on sub-level three, burn and archive a DVD, reroute the cameras, check he hadn't disrupted any important systems, then hurry upstairs and rejoin the others as inconspicuously as possible.

He'd slipped into the crowded room in time to watch John making good on his word, and enjoyed approximately forty seconds of quiet before the DNA-seeking missile revealed itself. There followed precisely ten painful minutes of Jack looking increasingly grim, while John shouted and whined and bled all over the place.

It wasn't until the sifted light of the rift was swirling around John's body that Ianto truly believed John wasn't going to somehow wrangle his way into staying.

Unfortunately, John managed to hold back just long enough for a parting shot - "_I found Grey_" - and Jack's face went horribly, privately blank.

They turned without speaking and strode back towards the SUV. Ianto took one look at the blowfish's car, red and shiny, and cleared his throat.

"I need to impound that again," he said, to nobody in particular, "and also, I need to dispose of an overgrown Tetraodontidae before it stinks the place out." He looked at Jack. "I'll do the blowfish if you take back the car. You're good with cars."

Jack blinked, and gave him a grin that looked almost totally natural. "Okay," he said, and then, pressing his lips together and nodding, "thanks."

"Well, you know, I'm a _selfless_ type," Ianto said, and Jack's look turned piercing - and that _was_ natural, that was pure Jack, and Ianto was suddenly reminded that Jack hadn't got off earlier, and, hello.

"You really are," Jack said.

"I know we've now technically got all night again," Owen called, sitting in the SUV's driving seat, "but come on, guys - we've not got all night!"

"I'll need the paperwork brought to the hub afterwards," Ianto said mildly, and lowered his voice. "Discretely, of course. Don't want you getting my other self all hot and bothered, filling his head with things he doesn't know yet."

Jack smirked, getting into the two-seater. "I'll see you there," he said, and gunned the engine hard.

***

 

Owen parked the SUV around the corner from the Torchwood front door, and they sat there in silence until their other selves trooped out. Two by two, neat and efficient, heading off in different directions.

"Divide and conquer," Ianto murmured, watching John jostle Gwen's arm as they headed for the main road.

"We'll know better next time," Gwen said darkly.

We already know better, Ianto thought.

Owen cleared his throat. "By my calculations the hub should be clear now 'til dawn," he said, as John and Gwen disappeared around the far corner of the street. "And we know where they'll all be. I say we take advantage of this perfectly good excuse to go out where we know they _won't_ be, and start drinking."

Tosh shrugged. "I wouldn't mind a drink."

"I might go home," Gwen hazarded, after a moment.

"I'd like a drink," Ianto said brightly, "but instead I've got a date with a decomposing fish."

"I reckon I win, mate," Owen said, smirking, then climbed out the car and nodded at Tosh. "Coming?"

Ianto waited for them to disperse before he said softly, "I'd have to disagree on that one," and headed inside.

***

 

He finished with the blowfish's body inside forty minutes. He checked his email, cleaned the kitchen, and made sure the DVD archives were as he'd left them. Then he kicked back in his desk chair and set up the appropriates to allow the system to defrag. The pre-defrag run was the sort of boring, time-consuming job that was really only worth doing if one was actually waiting for something else, such as a complicated man to come back from pushing a sports car to its limits.

A man like Jack, who assumed Ianto's obedience in almost every matter, and yet looked utterly terrified while asking him out to dinner.

When Jack entered the hub, two hours later, his cheeks were pink and his eyes were bright. "Now that," he declared, walking in and slapping a manila envelope down on Ianto's desk, "was one hell of a ride."

"Thought you might like it," Ianto said.

"You thought right." Jack gave him a long look, then nodded. "I might make coffee. You want a coffee?"

Ianto blinked. Jack was offering to make him coffee? "It's gone midnight," he pointed out. "We ought to leave soon."

"Oh. Yeah." Jack scrunched up his eyes, like he was searching for a word, then tried: "Tea?"

Ianto bit back a smile. "On one condition."

"Yeah?"

"That I make it."

"That defeats the point," Jack said.

_You were making a point?_ Ianto thought, fiercely intrigued, but just said, "Nevertheless, sir, the art of preparing tea is not one you're known for."

"There is no _art_ to making cups of tea," Jack scoffed.

Ianto hopped to his feet and headed for the kitchen, walking close to Jack and murmuring, "Philistine," as he passed.

"Pedant," Jack called after him.

Ianto walked on, grinning to himself, feeling light as a feather. When he returned with the tea - expertly prepared, if he said so himself - Jack was frowning at a bookshelf, his hands on his hips.

Ianto set the tea down.

"I've got something to ask you," he said quietly, bobbing close to Jack's shoulder and then standing back and giving him a mild smile when Jack turned round.

"Yeah?" Jack asked, with a look that managed to be half cautious and half leer.

"This way," Ianto said.

He lead Jack into the archives and pulled down the DVD, then held it behind his back while Jack sized him up with a slow, curious look.

"What've you got there?"

"This? Um," Ianto said, "I was thinking, ah," and looked at the ceiling, "about that suggestion you made earlier, you know, dinner, and a movie..."

"Yeah?" Jack asked, lifting his chin. The cautious look was back.

"Well," Ianto said, glancing back at him, "What I was thinking was: my place, tomorrow night, you bring dinner, I'll bring," and he brought his hand out from behind his back, "the movie."

He'd written the DVD label with a black marker: _Holding Cell Negotiations, 22:16, 07/01/08_.

Jack read the label and then looked at Ianto wonderingly. "That's not..."

"It's not a movie in the cinema, popcorn, rustling papers, lots of other people -sense, no," Ianto said, willfully misunderstanding.

"I get it," Jack said, eyes gleaming, beginning to smile. "Other people unnecessary."

"Other people optional," Ianto shrugged, and then felt a tightening in his chest when Jack shook his head and said,

"No, I think other people: unnecessary."

"Well, anyway," Ianto said, "do we have a deal?"

"Just to clarify," Jack said, "you're proposing that I come round to yours tomorrow, and you supply the, uh, _movie_, and I bring dinner?"

Ianto nodded, and Jack grabbed him for a quick, hard kiss on the mouth, then another, softer and longer, and another, exhaling against Ianto's lips; and then Jack leaned back, cupping the back of Ianto's head, and gave him a steady grin.

"Done," Jack said.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Derry for superb beta and outstanding patience in the face of my run-on sentences.


End file.
